


Charleroi, Belgium

by mattaretto



Series: Cross Country [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattaretto/pseuds/mattaretto
Summary: You and Steve talk about things long forgotten.





	Charleroi, Belgium

While in Charleroi, Steve wanted to visit Musée des Beaux-Arts de Charleroi. You weren’t surprised, you knew that eventually you’d be dragged along to an art museum. You didn’t mind, you enjoyed seeing him get so excited about something. Entry was free, meaning you’d only have to worry about getting food. 

You trailed behind him, holding onto his hand so that you wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. He finally stopped in one of the exhibits, deciding that’s where he wanted to start. He took his time examining every photo in detail, while you breezed through them. Taking a quick look at the photos before moving to the next. 

You sat down on one of the benches, watching as Steve moved from painting to painting. The paintings and artwork that surrounded you were beautiful, but you couldn’t help but watch Steve. Watch Steve as he moved slowly from frame to frame, eyes wide in awe. 

Knowing you’d be sitting there for a while, you pulled out your book and began to read, though your attention was often drawn back to your traveling partner. Traveling partner, was the right term now? Traveling partner didn’t sound right, but neither did anything else. Friend? Maybe, but surely you were past friends at this point, right? It felt that way, but was that just how he was with his friends? You had no real way of knowing, you hadn’t seen him interact with his friends before. 

Too caught up in thought, you didn’t realize that Steve was ready to move onto the next part. He was standing in front of you, an amused smile gracing his lips and a fondness in his eyes. 

“You gonna keep sitting there, or you gonna come see the rest the museum with me?” Startled, you jumped and dropped your book, causing Steve to laugh. 

“Jésus-Christ, essayez-vous de me tuer, garçon blanc?”  _ Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me, white boy? _

“Allez-vous jamais dire ça en anglais?”  _ Are you ever going to say that in English?  _ He was quick to respond and you stared at him, mouth agape. He spoke too quickly and with too good of an accent to not be fluent.

“Tu parle français?”  _ You speak French?  _ He laughed, leaning down to pick up the book you’d dropped, “Pourquoi n'as-tu pas parlé français en France?”  _ Why didn’t you speak French in France?  _

“Oui, j’ai appris au lycée.”  _ Yea, I learned in high school.  _ Staring at him, you narrowed your eyes at him, knowing he spoke too well to have only learned in high school, he paused before answering your question, seemingly trying to debate whether he should say it or not, “J'aime te regarder parler une autre langue, tu es mignon quand tu le fais.”  _ I like watching you speak another language, you’re cute when you do.  _

You could feel your face flush and you stuttered over your words, deciding to ignore his statement,"Où avez-vous appris ailleurs, car ce n'était pas seulement le lycée.”  _ Where else did you learn, because it wasn't just high school.  _

“Mon beau-père est français.”  _ My step-father is French.  _ Nodding, you stood up and took his hand, walking beside him to the next exhibit. 

“Beau-pere?”  _ Step father?  _

“Oui,” He started in French but switched to English, “My mom remarried when I was ten.” 

“What happened to your dad?” 

“I never knew him, he died before I was born.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“It doesn’t really bug me, y’know? Cause I didn’t know him, so I don’t have anything to miss.” 

“You can miss things you never had.” His grip tightening around your hand a little. 

“Yea, I know.” You looked at him, curious about the cold tone he spoke with, but deciding not to push it. 

“Come on, let’s go see the rest of the museum,” Walking in front of him, you tugged at his hand to pull him along. 


End file.
